Exile
by ArtyomsChalenger
Summary: Twilight is exiled from her home in the Empire of Equestria, and finds herself on an island in the Land of the Damned. How will she adjust? How will she live with the colonizers there? And will she come to love it? Humanized for ease of both reading and writing, status may change, will contain multiple languages in later chapters. Reviews are safe now, thanks fanfiction staff!
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first chapter of a story that I've been meaning to write for some time now, but never got around to. If you want an OC in this, give me a description in a review or PM, I'm gonna need a few. And now, for a bit of a dictionary for terms in this chapter:  
Unai (OO-naee) - unicorn  
Pegu (PAE-goo) - pegasus  
Erth (AYR-th) - earth pony **

**Steelline P.o.V.**

_Everything is okay right now. A comfortable darkness surrounds me, and a refreshing coolness licks lightly at my side with soft tongues of cloud. All is well with the world. The Empires of the Ring are at peace, and everything is- Argh!_

A sharp pain splits through my side as my 'alarm clock' goes off, sending a staff wrapped in thorns into my side. I roll over to escape the stinging, only to fall out of the hammock that I have taken to call 'home' in the past few weeks. Sighing, I push myself up and stretch, tying a dark grey bandana on my forehead as a headband to keep my medium-length tan hair out of my face. Then it's back to the ground for push-ups, then back up for jumping jacks, then back to the ground for sit ups, then back up. Not exactly pleasant, but really good for waking up in the mornings and even better for training. The Celestial Marine Corps won't take just anypony.

After I brush my teeth and pull on my loose, thin black undershirt, then chainmail, and finally my limited plate armour and helmet, I pull on my belt with my training axe, and walk out of the small shack I built for basic shelter. It's still dark out, and most people aren't awake yet; that is _the only_ reason my alarm sends a spiky stick into my side rather than just making a lot of noise.

I take my usual jog to my training grounds, my breath forming thin white clouds in front of me. By the time I get to my training area in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the mountains of Canterlot, it's light out. The trees provide a lot of shade, but some areas are still lit, bright beams of light breaking through the canopy and into my torn up, trashed up little clearing in the woods.

Several training targets and dummies are scattered around the middle of the clearing, different sizes and shapes to train against all sorts of creatures, from timberwolves, to griffins, to changelings, and everything in between. Obstacles and ropes courses go all along the perimeter for agility and endurance, with everything from vine-swing style jumps from place to place, to crawling under barbed wire (fishing line), to branch hopping, and all the way back again.

…**200 laps around the course and several thousand axe swings later…**

The jog back to Canterlot is mostly downhill, so it goes a lot faster.

Few people greet me as I get back to downtown Canterlot, but what else is new? The snobby S.o.B's second class can't risk their oh-so-precious 'reputations' to so much as notice the people that plan on at some point risking their _lives_ to protect them. They make me sick. And I swear to Celestia, if even ONE of them-

"Hello there." A friendly voice breaks my angry self-rant. At first I think it must have been my imagination, who would bother saying 'hi' to me?

"Hello?" the voice calls again. Looking around, I see a young girl giving me a small wave. She has long, deep purple hair and violet eyes to match. She's wearing a simple, thin purple sweater that goes to about halfway down her hands over a white shirt and jeans. Swirling tattoos running up and down her arms and neck signify her natural ability with magic as an Unai. I think I've seen her around before, but I can't quite tell when or where. She has a few books with her, so she must be a scholar of some sort. Curious, I thought ponies around here just relied on the fact that they're from Canterlot to get rich.

"Hello, ma'am," I reply with a nod. I slow down to a walk and make my way over to her. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, but the 'ma'am' isn't necessary," she responds, a light blush creeping over her cheeks as she looks away slightly. "I just like to greet the guards every now and then, you guys are so under-appreciated."

I blink in mild shock. She must be one of the rare few in Canterlot that care about anything more than themselves and their money.

"Well… That's very kind of you," I eventually manage to say, "but I'm not quite a guard yet, I've still got a lot of work to do if I want to be a part of the Celestial Marines."

"Oh, well, even so, you all go around so unnoticed, and I just like to make sure you know at least someone here cares about you and what you do."

"It's much appreciated," I assure her with a smile and a chuckle. "Steelline," I introduce myself, extending a hand.

"Twilight Sparkle, nice to meet you," she takes the offered hand and shakes. A cool breeze blows by as a short silence falls, and we both look up at the mountains, watching the trees dance in the wind without a care in the world.

"Welp," I finally say, breaking the pleasant stillness, "I should probably get back to training; the Celestial Marines won't take just anyone." She gives a little giggle, holding a hand to her mouth.

"Yeah, I should probably get on with my studies, too. Nice meeting you though!"

"And the same to you." I turn back in the direction of my little home with a small wave to Twilight, then jog the rest of the way back. That one nice interaction made up for a hundred of the common _suki_ that couldn't care less…

* * *

**Eight years later**

**Twilight P.o.V.**

_Knock knock knock knock!_

I let out a weak groan as I'm woken up at… 03,00? You've _got_ to be kidding me. I drag myself out of bed, careful not to land on Spike, and shuffle down the stairs and to the door as the infernal knocking continues, despite my repeated, if not mumbled, calls that I'm coming. I finally get to the door, and the knocking just… stops. I open the door, and nobody is there.

I step outside a bit to see if I can spot who it was that simply _had_ to come and wake me up at 03,00 and then decide that whatever they came for wasn't important enough to stay around. As I step out, I hear something crunch under my foot. Stepping back hurriedly, I look down and find a letter. I pick it up gingerly with my magic and go back inside, suddenly curious. Walking over to my table, I wave a hand in front of a candle, and it catches flame, spreading light across the room and letting me see the letter.

I already don't like what I see. My name and address are written in a military-like stencil, sharply contrasting with the beautiful hand written cursive of the Princess's letters and instructions. I open the envelop carefully, and pull out the notice inside. As I read, my eyes shrink to pinpricks and my heart-rate skyrockets to what I'm sure is an unhealthy pace; I can feel myself hyperventilating as I read on, hardly able to comprehend what I'm reading.

I stand up forcefully, knocking my chair over in the process, causing a loud _bang_ as it hits the ground and cracks. Racing upstairs, I make a mental checklist of what I'll have to do. I slam my bedroom door open, no longer caring that Spike is asleep, he needs to be awake too.

"Ungh! Huh?" Spike mutters, falling out of his bed and landing with a rough thud, "Twilight, what's going on?" Irritation laces his voice as he sits up, rubbing his head. As a response, I simply throw the note to him and start going through everything I need. Some water, some food, hygiene products, a few books.

"Twilight, what is this?" His irritation has been replaced by fear as he looks over the letter.

"I have no idea," the truth stings as it crawls out of my throat, "but we have to go. Now." I throw my backpack on, make sure Spike has his things, and run as fast as I can away from my beloved Canterlot library home. Away from the letter of damnation.

* * *

I look at the map once again, the known world stretched out before me, a single, hollow, roughly circular land mass with smaller islands and peninsulas lining its edges. This land is broken up into several empires and provinces, ruled over by all manner of creatures; the griffons primarily in the east, the Changelings in small pockets throughout, the elves in the south, the northern elves in… well, the north, and the three types of human, Unai, Pegu, and Erth, each with their own special natural abilities, spread across every part of the world and controlling several small provinces and kingdoms across the world, but only one true empire, my home, in the south-east portion.

In the middle, there is an archipelago of dozens of small islands swirling in on each other. Most people simply call it 'the Land of the Damned', because it's where the mainland empires throw their convicts and outcasts to die. It's almost like a communal penal dump.

_So why am I being sent there?_

What have I ever done wrong to the empire? Who have I ever wronged? Why am I being thrown away like trash?! I've served my princesses dutifully and well, given back to society, aced every test, so… Why?

I shake my head forcefully, ridding myself of those thoughts, focusing myself again on my plan… Wait a second. What plan? What do I do now that I've been rejected by my home and disowned by my people for no apparent reason whatsoever?

"Oi! Down 'ere, y' gawt ten min'ts," a hoarse voice from the deck of the ship I managed to hire to get me to my new prison calls down to me. Ten minutes to hell. Lovely.

* * *

I land in the wake of the boat about fifty yards offshore of the closest island in the archipelago after they literally throw me off the back by my arms and legs. It wasn't exactly the exit I had in mind, but I suppose I'll make it work. Suddenly a stabbing spike of fear ripped through my heart. My books! Are they alright? Wait, yes they are, I waterproofed my pack before I got onboard, that's right.

"-ight! Hey, Twilight!" Spike calls me out of my thoughts, "Are we gonna get out of this water, or do you feel like staying here the rest of your life?"

"Right, sorry, I suppose we should get to shore, shouldn't we?" I say with a nervous chuckle.

As we approach the shore, I notice the scenery of the island for the first time; huge trees tower over everything, stretching easily two hundred feet up just a few hundred feet inland, spanned by vines that stretch every which way. The trees send shadows out even over the water. We eventually get to the sandy beach, and I'm instantly drawn to the tree line, even though it sends shivers of fear down my spine. I step just a bit closer, Spike shivering at my side, when I hear something that makes me stop in my tracks.

A low growl creeps out of the jungle, accompanied by a light rustling. Suddenly, a _huge_ wolf leaps out of the tree line with someone _riding it_. Its coat is a dark grey, and it walks close to the ground on rather short legs that are almost as thick as some of the tree trunks I can see in the jungle. Its tail is big and bushy, and its eyes are narrowed in a snarl as its large claws gleam in the sunlight. It lands only a few yards from us, and the rider brandishes a hollow-headed battle axe at us. He's wearing plates of what look like layered tree bark tied together as plates on his chest, lower arms, and shins, over a suit of mail and, most terrifying, he wears what looks like a large skull of some wild beast as a helmet. The lower jaw extends just a few centimeters bellow his own, and ends in two rough barbs. The upper jaw and cranium cover the rest of his face in their angular surfaces, leaving just his mouth visible and his eyes shrouded in shadows. Spike passes out.

After a few moments of stillness though, he (I assume it's a he) lowers his axe, and a smile creeps across his lips.

"Well, well, well," he says in a voice that sounds absurdly familiar, if maybe a bit gruffer than I seem to somehow remember, "I was wondering when I would see you here." He brings a gloved hand to his helmet and lifts it off.

Holy crap.

"It's been quite a while, Twilight."

Holy crap!

"Quite a while indeed."

HOLY CRAP!

* * *

**/)*(\  
**


	2. Welcome to the Village

**Terms for the chapter:**

**Basic: like in Star Wars, in this world there is a basic, world-wide language that everyone learns. Stuff like legal documents, government regulated papers, etc. are in Basic, whereas local media and conversation happens in the vernacular. Also like in Star Wars, most people very much prefer the vernacular over Basic.**

**Now on with the story!**

* * *

"Steelline?" I whisper in disbelief, my eyes widening.

"Twilight, It's been a while," he says with a nod, "How've you been?"

"Why are _you _here?" I ask, "What happened to the Celestial Marines?"

"Well, nice to know you've been well." Damn his sarcasm. "But as for your question, I tried out, got in, did well, and was promptly deported." He pauses a moment to shrug, "Whaddaya do?"

"Wha-? Why?" I can feel my face contorting in confusion, "What did you do wrong?"

"That's what I wondered for a while. But I talked to people, and heard stories, an-"

"Wait wait wait wait," I interrupt, holding a hand out in a 'slow the hell down for a moment' motion, "Talked to people? What people?"

"The Villagers. Anyhow, I talked to them and found out that the horrible thing I did was question Celestia's judgment." What.

"Also," he goes on, his smile renewed, "I learned that Celestia is one of the most incredible asshats on this side of the planet. My question is what _you_ did to get landed here," he continues as his smile falls and his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

I just stand there for a moment, not saying anything, and not moving. What _had_ I done? I've been wondering that myself since I got the notice. I don't think I've done anything against Celestia's rule, I don't think I've broken any laws… Well, no major laws anyway. It couldn't have been that I was simply on Celestia's bad side, I mean I was her personal protégé, and the star student at her academy for thirteen years straight. Had that offended someone? Were they mad at my success? That's a bit childish and immature, but I wouldn't put it past peop-.

"-rth to Twilight! You in there?" I jump back in surprise as Steelline calls me back to the realm of the living. "What did you do to land yourself here?"

"Oh, right, sorry," I scratch the back of my head nervously as a blush lights my face, "I… I have no idea." I expected him to be at least a little annoyed at that answer, but he just nods in understanding.

"Yeah, I been there." His response catches me a bit off guard for some reason, and it just kindda blows right over my head.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I know how that feels. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Also," his eyes flick down for a second, "who's the little guy?"

Again, catches me off guard. What's with me today? I just raise an eyebrow. "Hm?"

He finally sighs and rolls his eyes. "The little guy right there, y'know, short, spiky green hair, jeans, purple shirt, I assume he came here with you?"

"Oh! Right, sorry, this is Spike. I've been a little out of it today."

"Y' don't say? Anywho, get him up and hop on," he walks back over to his giant wolf, sliding his helmet back on, "Let's get back to the Village. There are things on this island you don't want to run in to alone after dark." Looking up to the setting sun, I wake Spike and haul his half-conscious body to the wolf. Steelline helps us on, and then gives his reigns a little tug to the jungle and whistles a low note for a second or two.

The wolf makes a guttural midrange growl in response, and sets off into the forest. The ride is shockingly smooth as we enter the jungle.

After a few minutes of idle conversation ranging from how we've been doing to our views on communism, a soft glow starts to become visible from a few more hundred yards away.

"May I be the first to say," Steelline says with a smile, looking back at Spike and me, "Welcome to the Village." Finally, the last layer of giant leaves and vines and trunks breaks, allowing me my first look at this place, set up in a slight dip, with ledges like the one we are on pointing into the village in a hexagon.

I imagined many, many things about what this place would be, but I have to say, 'organized' was not on the list of adjectives I imagined would suit this place. The entire place is organized quite well, everything spreading out in a hexagon from the central square. Huts are arranged in small clusters of six, each hexagonal group with a small fire burning in between them with the doors pointed towards one another. Then these hexagons formed larger formations… Lots and lots of hexagons. Weird. The glow of firelight spread across the entire settlement in impressively even intervals, and shadows spread as thin lines as if making a picture.

"When we get down there," Steel says as we start to move down the side of the overhang, approaching the city, "I'm gonna have to go and check in with my commander, so I'm going to leave you off with an friend of mine to give you the tour. 'Kay?"

"Your commander?"

"Yeah, haven't I told you? I'm a part of the scouting group in the military here, it's not exactly the marines, but you know what? I don't think the marines are quite this cool anyway."

As we ride further into the village, more and more people look up and greet us, offering friendly smiles and friendly waves as we approach the square.

"Ey! Mikhail!" Steel calls to one of the huts in front of us, prompting the occupant to move the cloth door away and step out groggily. The man is about average height, _very_ clearly an elf of some sort, probably northern, based on his pointed -but not long- ears and the slight sunken-ness of his cheeks. His half-lidded eyes show his tiredness and boredom, even half-covered with very unkempt greyish hair, and he has bit of a goatee.

"_Da_?"

"I've gotta go check in with the Raven, could ya give Twilight and Spike here the grand tour? They're new around here," Steel switches suddenly to Basic, instead of out nice, comfortable English. The man, who I assume is named Mikhail, just nods and waves for us to follow him as he starts stepping lazily in the other direction as we slide carefully down off of the wolf and wave to Steel.

"_Ey, ti govaresh' po-russkiy?_" Mikhail says rather quickly, turning to me and walking backwards down the dirt roads that link everything together.

"What?" Spike and I say in unison, raising eyebrows. It scares me sometimes how similar we are. Mikhail just makes a disappointed sound and looks away for a half a second.

"Could we keep it in Basic for now?" Spike says, more a statement than a request, causing Mikhail to sigh.

"'s been a long time since we've gotten any Russians around here. It's the first thing I check for in every new arrival. Ah well," he says, shrugging, "can't have everything, I s'ppose."

He leads us around to all the different parts of the village, sometimes stopping to have short conversations with people, and then getting straight back to showing us around. Eventually, he just stops at a hexagon of huts, and leans up against one of them.

"This is where you'll be staying, real close to the square, I'll show you that in a bit," he says, pausing to pop his neck a bit, his eyes scrunching up in a weirdly adorable way.

"Hey, Twilight," Spike says beside me in English, "I think I'm just gonna go to sleep for a bit, 'kay?" I nod silently to him, and he disappears into the hut.

"So," Mikhail says, jolting himself off of the hut and back into a slow walk towards what I can only assume is the square, "What'd he say?"

"What do you-?" and then it clicked, "Oh, right, you don't speak English. Right. Well, he just said that he was gonna go to bed."

"Ahh. Aaaand finally," Mikhail says with raised arms for dramatic effect, "This is the main square." The square has a large pavilion in the very center, with six trees, one on each corner of the -get this- hexagon, and large jungle leaves layered over each other, overlapping. A large fire is burning in the center of the pavilion, and there are several groups around it, sleeping, standing, and everything in between. And those groups are, I swear on all things magical, the _only_ things in this whole damn place that aren't hexagonal.

"This is the main social hub of the area, where everyone comes to eat, drink, sing, and just live life like it's meant to be lived," he finishes with a huge smile.

He's a really laid back guy. Like the type of person who could just live on for the sake of living even after horrible, horrible things. Nothing seems to bother him. I like that. He's cool.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one," I say, "what's the deal with all the hexagons?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head a bit. "I have no idea whatsoever," he chuckles a bit more, "The designer had some hellofan OCD problem, I guess." We all just stand and laugh for a bit, before my stomach decides to chime in. I look and Mikhail sheepishly.

"Any place to get food?"

He chuckles. "No, we just, y'know, starve." Dammit sarcasm! "Right over there," he points to two large pots (more like cauldrons), "There's rice, and clam soup. Do you have a bowl and spoon?" I slowly shake my head 'no'. Why had it not occurred to me that I may need something to eat out of?

"'s alright," Mikhail says, of course, "I'll get you one. Be right back." And with that, he left, returning literally five seconds later with a wooden bowl and a pasty white spoon.

"Well _that_ was fast," I say, "What's the spoon made out of?" I ask casually as I walk over and scoop some soup into the bowl. It smells really good.

"Tibia, if I remember correctly," he answers with far too cheerful a tone, as I now gag on the (very good) soup that I had just put in my mouth with something that used to be a living creature's leg. "Or maybe femur."

"_WHAT_?!"

"It's clean, don't worry," he responds somewhat defensively. Then, he looks over my shoulder at something, and his face _really_ lights up, his eyes widening and his smile growing, starting to show his ever-so-slightly crooked teeth.

"What?" I ask, "Why are you smiling like-" I cut off as he walks past me, apparently not caring about my question. A girl about his height is approaching from the other direction with an equally wide smile and open arms. She has rather short hair, for a girl, coming down spikily to the bottom of her neck, black as Luna's night. They meet in a tight hug like friends that haven't seen each other in months.

"Twilight, this is my friend Kathryn," Mikhail says, looking back at me, then back at her, "Akh, I haven't seen you in months!" Well, that worked well with that analogy.

"Nice to meet you," I say, stepping forward with an extended hand. She takes it in a firm shake, "I'm Twilight, by the way."

"Nice t' meet you too," she says with an accent that I can't quite place. It sounds like a strange cocktail of English, Scottish, and Swedish, "So whatda you do?"

"Well, I just got here," I say sheepishly, "But back home, I was a scholar in magics."

"Ahh," she breaths, bringing her head way back, and then into a slow nod, "So you're one o' dose professional learner people, eh? 'at's cul. I play violin, m'self."

"Kathryn here's the best damn violin player on this side of the planet," Mikhail supplements, "Are you gonna be playin' at Fest tomorrow?" he asks her, and, upon receiving an enthusiastic nod, jumps away slightly, giving a single, loud, excited clap and letting out a single chuckle. "You, Twilight, are in for a treat!"

Yay? I guess?

* * *

**Thank you to Gadgetphile for following this! Sorry about the delay, I had this mostly typed up and wanted to post it before school started back up, but of course that didn't happen, and then school took up all of my writing time. Also, now that school is back in swing, it will probably be a week or more until the next update. I apologize for this, but education comes first. /)*(\ **


	3. Fest and doubts

"Twilight!" I hear Steel call from behind me. Turning to face him, I see him walking towards me with another person, a human Pegu with black hair with a single bloody-crimson streak running down in on the side of his face. He's not quite as tall as Steel, but still imposing. His muscular, but not huge, stature creates an air of intimidation that is somehow countered by a very relaxed aura about him that simply radiated easy-goingness, while maintaining a sense that he could snap to militant discipline faster than you could say 'pushup'.

"Twilight, this is Darkstar," Steel says motioning to the man, "Darkstar, this is Twilight: Human, Unai, scholar, twenty."

"Um… hello?" I say (stupidly) in response with a small wave, not quite sure what to say.

"Hey, welcome to the Village," he responds with a voice somewhat lighter than his appearance led me to guess it would be, extending his hand to shake, "I would say it's nice to see another from Equestrii," he says with an almost imperseptable wince at the name of our home, "but there're way too many of us, we need some diversity," he finishes with a laugh, flicking some hair out of his face.

Mikhail and Kathryn are still talking excitedly about this 'Fest' thing, going on about how this group agreed not to do anything. And-

"Woahwoahwoah wait!" Steel exclaims, interrupting my thoughts, "Omnia agreed not to participate?" Who?

"Yeah, we coul'n't believe i' either," Kathryn answers, "Some'ne else actu'lly stands a chance now!"

… Question mark?

"Who? Chance at what? Huh?" I mutter confusedly.

"Oh, right," Steel says, "You probably don't know what's going on." I nod. "Well, every ninth nightfall, we have this thing called 'Fest' to either celebrate the successful returning of a hunting party, or to celebrate the successes of those who came before, and there's a lot of food, and singing, and food, and art, and food. And there's this big 'competition' between a whole bunch of combined arts, from music to art to tech and everything in between, and this one group called Omnia _always_ wins, and they get some prize. It's usually just some random little, worthless piece of… something, or maybe some little knick knack or something, but it's mostly just for bragging rights, and they've won _every single time_ since they were formed. And this time, they're not competing! Someone else might actually win!"

"Ohh…" I say slowly, not really sure how to react, "Uh, yay?" I still don't quite understand, but I suppose I will soon enough. I let out a slow yawn, the fatigue and, more importantly, the stress finally catching up with me.

"Tired?" Mikhail asks. I simply nod in response. "I don't blame you, the first day is never easy. Go on back to your hut and wash your stuff, and just go to sleep."

"We'll look for a job for you in a few days, maybe," Darkstar adds in, "but for now, just take it easy and adjust. It probably feels weird now, but I think you'll like it here when you adjust." He says some other stuff, and talks to Mikhail for a few moments in… whatever it was that he speaks for a moment, then turns back to me and says something else, but I was just too out of it to notice or care what it was.

I just focus on dragging my feet to the hut and dropping the bowl into a thing of water before I fall unceremoniously into the hammock which is strung between four support beams a foot or two off the ground. As I lay there, I can't seem to actually fall asleep for some reason, despite how slow my thoughts are, and how motionless I am, and how dark and surprisingly quiet the inside of the hut is. How could this have happened? That question is getting old. Really old, really fast. At least the people here seem nice enough. On the tour, there were so many people doing so much; making art, making music, making science. Making history. Woah. Time isn't linear though, it swerves and curls and dances, just barely avoiding manipulation. What is the past? For all we know, this IS the past, and we just tell these stories to fool ourselves. Maybe this is the future. Maybe we're all being lied to by our senses and good reason. All time is all time, it doesn't

A beam of light cuts across my eyes from the open flap of the hut, slicing through my blissful blackness of sleep. When did I even fall asleep?

"_Dobroye utra_, Twilight," I hear a vaguely familiar, very Russian voice call from the light, "Get on up. You've got people to meet and a life to get used to."

"Five more minutes," I try to say, but mostly just utter completely unintelligible moaning. Mikhail laughs.

"Yeah, that's what I said on my first real day too," he pauses for a moment, and sighs, "but come on, there's even food involved."

That wakes me up, and I find myself flinging my legs over the side of the hammock, my hair falling every which way across my face in an early morning (midday) mess, and I stumble dizzily over to the door flap.

"Food?" Yeah. I'm really dignified.

"Yup," Mikhail says, still with this huge grin, apparently finding my tired self very humorous, "food. Follow." I can do that.

We walk the few meters to the square, the light from the sun blinding me the whole way. I bring my arm up to block the direct light, and I swear my arm glows, reflecting the light into my eyes even harder for a second. Good lord I'm pale…

"Eat up," Mikhail says, a bowl of rice with little, finely diced green something in it in his outstretched hand, along with a pair of chopsticks. I mumble a quick 'thank you' as I take the bowl and chopsticks, starting to eat and thanking Celestia I studied oriental culture for a while.

Celestia. Celestia? Why thank her? It's pretty clear that she doesn't care about me and all the things I did for her. But still, what'll I do here?

I freeze up, a hand with rice halfway up to my mouth. Oh god. What'll I do here? What _can_ I do here? All I know is studying and learning and developing for Princess Celestia, and now that there's no Princess Celestia, who am I? What do I do? Do I even have a purpose anymore?!

"Twilight!" I gasp at the call, sharp and close as it was, "Twilight, what's wrong?" Slowly, I register the world around me again, the darkness that I didn't even notice engulf me receding again. My breathing is quick and shallow, my pupils are dilated, my heart is pounding. Mikhail is in front of me, worry clouding his eyes, a hand on my shoulder. I had dropped my chopstick load of rice. That sucks.

"I- I ju- What a- uhn," I stutter and mutter out quietly, "What do I do now?" I finally manage, "The empire was my entire _life_, and now that that's gone…" I leave the statement hang, suddenly feeling uncomfortable here. I don't belong here. These people don't need to know me. Hell, they _shouldn't_ know me. And I shouldn't know them. _I shouldn't be here!_ My empire has deserted me, and now I'm absolutely _worthle_-

The feeling of arms wrapping gently around me cuts that last word off and shocks me out of my thoughts.

"It's okay." Okay? "I know how you feel. And for what it's worth, I'm so sorry."

* * *

**Sorry it's a bit shorter, and sorry it's a bit later, but school caught up to me with projects and not-the-best grades, so that's been taking most of my time. Anywho, if you have any questions, critiques, or suggestions, please, either comment or PM. Also, thank you to Cherrybomb101 (Guest) for use of their OC! Any other OC or setting submissions would be lovely. Bis später, /)*(\  
**


	4. reflection and Fest

**Mikhail P.o.V.**

_Moy bog_. This is always the worst part.

Poor Twilight, the denial/my-god-I'm-worthless-now stage is gonna hit her hard, I can tell. Someone doesn't just go from being the personal protégé of the monarch of a state, especially one of such wealth and power, to an outcast, exiled nobody without issue. She starts to shake in my arms as I feel her head gently come to rest on my shoulder.

She mutters some English babble that I can't understand, her voice broken and shaking.

"Shh" I whisper out, more of a wisp of air than my voice, "It'll be okay. I know it hurts now, but it'll be okay."

"How can you _say _that?!" she screams, once again speaking in basic, tearing away from me and making me cringe under her harsh tone and death glare, "How can you sit there and tell _me _that everything is going to be okay? I lost… _everything_!" She draws out each syllable, punctuating them by smacking the back of her hand against her other palm. Tears are flowing down her face, and I can _feel _the emotion in her voice washing over me and sweeping me away like a riptide.

"I know. I-"

"'I know'?!" she screams my words back at me with sharp venom lacing her voice, an incredulous look spread across her face. People all around are looking at us at this point; some with pity, some in amusement, some giving me questioning looks. Yeah, I know how to deal with the emotionally unstable.

I sigh, and feel my arms drop, shoulders slouching in exasperation as my chin hits my chest. I draw myself back up, stretching my arms out in a motion to calm down.

"Calm down for a second an-"

"You want me to _ca-_"

"Calm the hell down and let me say something!" I whisper-shout through clenched teeth with a bit more harshness than I intended. After a moment, the look of pure shock she was wearing softens, and she looks down in slight shame. "Right now, we're attracting a bit of a crowd, so maybe we should go somewhere a bit less crowded and talk this out, okay?" She simply nods.

I stand up and help pull her up from her very dejected slouch, and started walking out of the square, wrapping my arm gently around her shoulders in what I hope is seen as a comforting gesture. Eventually, we get to the village limits, and the line of huts simply stops, and there is a short wall with a guard tower on each of the sides of the road, same as with every main street. A wolf-mounted guard or two pace back and forth outside the opening in the wall that serves as the 'door', and an archer mans each of the guard towers.

"'Ey Mikhail, where ya goin'?" a coarse, yet laid back voice calls from one of the towers.

"We've got a recent arrival that's going through the breakdown," I call sorrowfully back to the tower, squeezing Twilight's shoulder a bit.

"Ahh, d'ya want your Spearpoint?" I consider that for a second; I haven't seen my wolf in a few days, it'd probably be nice.

"Yeah, that would be great, _spasibo_." The guard calls down to another of the few soldiers there to get Spearpoint, and after a minute or two, I saw my wolf striding through the wall's opening. He walks in low to the ground, his grey fur stopping only a few inches above the ground. The whitened pattern on his face and stretching into his forehead seeming just the slightest bit softer than the rest of his fur as I pet him a bit before he lies down and I get on, then turn to help Twilight get on in front of me.

"We'll be back by sundown," I call to the tower as Spearpoint stands up again, turning to the exit.

* * *

The ride starts off quietly as we leave the village slowly behind, the light of the clearing diminishing to just the light that breaks through the thick canopy of the jungle as we ride along at a quick walk.

"So talk to me," I eventually say, breaking the brittle silence between us.

"Well… I just…" she sighs, "I just don't _know_ what to do now. Don't know who I am, or what I'm supposed to be." A few seconds of pause fall before she continues. "I used to be _sure_ that I was supposed to be Princess Celestia's student and protégé for… well, forever. But that was quite a while ago. Or was it two days ago? But now, it's pretty clear that _that's_ not the case, and now I'm just… lost." She sounds less actively _sad_, per se- just kind of broken.

"Hmmm," Welp, guess there's nothing really I can do. Maybe when Fest starts, she'll be able to for-. Waitwaitwait. Fest. I pull Spearpoint's reigns, ordering him to a stop.

"What is it?" Twilight asks, "What's wrong?"

"Fest is tonight."

"Wha-?"

"FEST IS TONIGHT!" I yell excitedly, pulling the reigns in a hard turn, spinning us all the way around and pushing Spearpoint to a run back to the village, the wind blowing Twilight's and my hair back, rustling our shirts and cooling our skin.

I feel Twilight tense at first, but slowly relax as we go, slowly leaning back onto my chest. The light was fading from the lush, green environment, signaling the coming nightfall. Light from the village starts to come through the undergrowth and huge ferns, and then we break the tree line.

"Oi, Mikhail!" one of the tower guards calls down, his voice shaking, "A little slower next time, maybe? Nearly scared us right off the tower." I laugh quietly, smirking at them and the growing sounds of the preparation for Fest.

"So what's the 'prize' that the winner gets?" Twilight asks, breaking the silence that had been maintained since when I turned us around.

"Hm?"

"Someone said something about a prize, I think?"

"Oh! Yeah, that explanation wasn't quite clear, sorry. What happens, is basically, people just do their thing, and tomorrow morning, people just kind of agree on some person or group that 'wins', and there isn't really a material prize to speak of."

I can almost _feel_ her confusion at this statement.

"If there isn't any actual prize, then what's the point?" _Sigh_, this is going to be a long night, I can tell.

"You need to understand that this is a very… _very_ different place than your empire. Here, nobody really cares what _they_ have, it's about community. It's about love and tolerance here." A smile grows back onto my face as I explain, the lightness of the lack of greed and ego in the Village coming back to me with the force of when I first got here myself. "There's no first person here," I continue, "Everything happens as a community. There are personal opinions, and personal view, but everything belongs to everybody. Nobody is less or more. Nobody is better or worse for any opinion, or view, or thought."

A few moments of peaceful, calm silence fall around us, new friends in a new land, as people all around make ready for Fest, getting instruments, artistic material, tools, etc.

"Hm," Twilight grunts after a while. I look over to her, her mouth twisted, torn between a concentratedly thinking line on one half, and a blissfully thought detached smile on the other. Even as a thinker myself, I have to agree that sometimes just sitting and _feeling_ more than thinking is absolute heaven.

The first notes of music are beginning to ring out around the square to which we somehow meandered in the past while. The familiar, harmonious ringings of harp, lyre, guitar, violin, hurdy-gurdy, and so much more wave through the darkening air, lit with small torches and fires, the sparks thereof float skywards with a sort of lazy liveliness.

"Well, Twilight, I jus-" Turning, I realize that Twilight isn't by my side anymore, gone off into the thick crowd that is already forming in the center of our little slice of paradise, formed of the outcasts of society; of the thieves, dissidents, murderers and political renegades. I pull a hand through my slightly sweat-wettened hair, sweeping it to the side of my head as the smile grows across my lips.

* * *

**Twilight P.o.V.**

Melodies from all over flow over the mild crowd gathered in the square from all sorts of instruments and voices and languages. The flickering lights of flame throw dancing shadows across every inch of open space. I feel a smile take form on my face as I wander through the area, songs of joy and love drifting every which way from all over.

"_I've been in love with love,  
and the idea of something binding us together,  
y'know that love is strong enough!_"

A song in English drifts out, somehow louder than most of the others without any difference in volume. Artists line the streets, painting and drawing and sculpting, oh my. Individual musicians are spread about, their instruments in hand or mouth, letting out happy, or at the least beautifully sad, tunes. As I continue just aimlessly wandering like I haven't since… ever, I see, and more importantly hear, a group of four men standing in a semi-circle singing, one of them with a strange instrument hanging around his neck that sounded something like a cross between a violin and bagpipes. They sing and play one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard, despite it being Russian… I think it's Russian.

I slowly move to the side of the path and stop, just listening to the music, letting it flow over me and letting myself soak it in.

"It's so pretty, isn't it?" I just barely hear a quiet voice from behind me comment in Basic. Turning, I see a human pegu about my age. She's wearing a thin long sleeved shirt that's way too big for her, the sleeves extending a solid four inches past the tips of her fingers, and faded sweatpants. Her long soft pink hair covers one of her aquamarine eyes as she seems to almost hide in it. Her smile is soft enough to make the toughest Imperial Marine melt in his boots, I'm sure.

"Yeah," I respond softly, "it is." The small group is on their third or fourth repetition of the same hypnotic song, but I don't mind. At. All. "I'm Twilight, by the way," I say, extending my hand.

"Fluttershy," she says back, somehow even softer than her first comment, gently taking my hand and shaking very lightly after a moment's hesitation.

"Nice to meet you." She just squeaks in answer. I chuckle a bit.

Y'know, I think I may just come to like this place yet.

* * *

**Good god, sorry about the wait, got my computer taken away for a while (damn you, grading system, damn you). But I'm back now, and will try to get chapters out a bit faster. Yay! Fluttershy! If you want to hear the song, put [**watch?v=Hj2P74P1e2o**] on the end of youTube's main page. It's amazing. 'Till next time. /)*(\  
**


	5. Religion and Omnia

**This chapter includes a few songs, and I highly recommend listening to them, in my opinion it really helps the experience. Enjoy.  
**

* * *

The group eventually stops singing for a bit, and I go up to the one that was playing the strange instrument.

"Excuse me sir, but that was beautiful," I say in mild awe in Basic, "what was it called?"

"_Hah, sbasibo!_" he says back in his Russian with a lighthearted chuckle and a smile, "It's a song called '_Uzh kak po mostu, mostochiku_', and this," he turns his instrument upwards slightly for a moment, "is the hurdy-gurdy."

I almost succeed in holding back a snicker. Almost.

He lets out a cheery laugh. "Yeah, that's what I thought first time I heard it too."

"Well, thank you for sharing that with us, it's nice," I say, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Eh, _eto byl moy udovol'stviye,_" he babbled again with a small bow and that same smile, so I'm guessing it was something nice. I turn away, walking off to gods-know-where once again.

There's so much going on all over the place, so much culture from so many places all coming together without discrimination or hate. Different art styles and music and foods, all in the same place. Eventually, I pick up an irresistible scent of fresh bread of some sort or another, and my legs somehow find themselves going in the direction it's coming from.

It doesn't take me long to get to the source of the scent, an open tent with a small table in front of it, breads and other baked goods spread across it in a strange sort of disorderly organization.

"HI!" an overly energetic voice calls from the door of the tent, making me flinch a bit, "How's it goin'? Are you having a good time toni- Are you NEW here?!" I look up to get a look at my verbal assailant, a girl just a bit younger than I am with crazy pink hair. Crazy like… explosion-in-space crazy. She's wearing a pink sleeveless shirt and loose brown pants with sandals of the same color.

"Hello, just fine, ye-, and yes," I answer with a small smile, appreciating the fact that she cares enough to ignore the speed and volume of the questions. She takes a loud, long gasp and rushes over to me, pulling me into a crushing hug.

"_Ach so! Willkommen zu unseren Insel!_ I'm Pinkie Pie, what's your name?" She asks, finally letting me go.

"My name is Twilight Sparkle," I respond, "How much for the bread? It smells amazing." She just looks confused for a second, her huge smile disappearing, head tilting to the side, and eyebrow rising, but then returns to her happy, energy-filled self.

"Ohhhh, right, you're new, I almost forgot." Huh? What's _that_ supposed to mea- My thoughts are interrupted by a large piece of bread being shoved in my face.

"Just take some!" wat.

"A-are you sure?" I am legitimately confused.

"Of course! We're all just one big family here, there are no real prices for stuff, and there are no real big meanies either. People just ask and people just give. It's so nice," she explains, her face brightening even more, if that's at all possible. "And even if there _was_ a price," she continues rather dismissively, "what would you pay with? Imperial money?" Oh. Right. That's not worth anything here, is it? Not worth anything more than the paper it's printed on.

_It's actually printed on a special type of cotton fabric_, a voice from somewhere in the back of my mind suddenly blurts out. Yeah, to hell with you too, voice.

Another wave of emptiness rolls over me. My hands go numb, my mouth dries out, my eyes cast themselves downwards, the buzz of conversation around me dies away, sounding as if through a muffler. A dull, burning ache wells up in my chest again as it feels as if a malicious spirit is reaching into my chest and grabbing at my heart, trying with all its might to try to rip it right out.

And I've half a mind to let it.

"'Ey Pinkie," A calm and cool (and tipsy) voice seems to say from far off, yet somehow still close enough to reach out and touch, "_Was geht mit IHR_?"

"_Ich hab' kkeeiiinne Idee, Dashy_."

I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders, and a weight lean against my, dragging my right side down a bit. "_Na, sie seht zu gut aus zu so traurig aussehen_." Something about her tone, and the light, sharp giggle that followed, seems a bit… flirtatious, almost.

My senses shock back to reality, my sight snapping back into focus and stretching forwards like rubber as I feel my knees buckle for a moment and the hum of conversation return to my ears.

Looking to my side, I see a girl that looks a year or two younger than I do with prismatic hair coming down in thin, sweat-bound spikes just barely over her eyes. Her arm (which is, in fact, around my shoulders, I realize with a light blush) holds a glass bottle of some red liquid. She wears a light grin, the end of her lip just barely curled upwards. I see that she's a Pegu, her cyan wings folded lazily against her back with the feathers just out of line enough to notice. And be aggravating. Why are they out of line? They're SO CLOSE to being perfectly in line, so _WHY AREN'T THEY!?_

Right, a-hem.

"Somet'in' wrong there hotstuff?" she asks with a bit of a northern accent. I can't quite place where from, though.

"N-n-not really," I say quietly, blushing again at the 'hotstuff' name.

"_Bra, bra_," she says back with a shallow nod of her head. She moves her arm up (with my head still in her elbow, mind you) and takes a quick sip of the red drink.

"What's that?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"'t's _Iwo'Hiq_," she responds, slowing down the name of the drink, which I take could only be of Griffic origin, based on the strangeness and distinctly guttural sound. "Blood-wine." That's a rather gruesome name.

"That's… just a name, right?"

"Oh, yeah," she says, half shocked, half disgusted, "'S just a name. Tastes kinda like I s'pect blood does. You wan' some?" She asks, somehow sounding like she doesn't know whether I'll say yes or no, tipping the bottle slightly towards me.

"Ugh no!" I respond, crinkling my face up in disgust.

"Eh, more far me, I guess," she says in a very relaxed manner. Everyone here seems so relaxed, it's a weird - not bad, but weird - change from the stress and hustle-bustle of Equestrii, especially Canterlot. I suddenly feel a warm sensation on my cheek, and snap back out of my thoughts to realize that it's whoever-it-is rainbow hair girl leaning her head on mine. Okay, that's enough.

"Okay!" I half-shout at her, pushing her away and stepping back, "_That's_ gotta stop!" She just looks away in a bit of a wince, acting more like I smacked her across the face than yelled at her. "What? Do you _like_ girls like that? I mean, that's just morally impure!"

I almost see a spark in her eyes as her face goes from hurt to just absolutely furious, rearing back from her slouch up to her full height, flaring her wings out a bit.

"Oh, so I have bat _morals_ for loving who I want to love, now?!" My turn to wince. "I'm _mor'lly impure_ because I have tat sort of emotional tie to girls rader tan guys?! And why, prey tell, is _tat_?"

"It goes _directly _against religion!"

"Oh, your imperial religion, le' me guess?"

"Well, yeah."

"Yes, of course, guess whad? Tat oh-so-precious 'religion' o' yours is _completely _mate up. Is just a story made by your _fuckin'_ government ta control t'e people. Because people _question_ te government, but people ton't question their religion as much. So your servant-sucking, peasant-fucking _princess_ o' yours just made ta government a religion, an' maintains control to this day_. Bli knullad_," she spat. I try to close my agape mouth, and get my eyes to un-widen, but I can't move. I can't even think. _What_ did she just say?

"Squad lead Dash, with all due respect, I think that's quite enough," a new voice says, low and calm.

"But she's -"

"Frankly Dash, I don't care," the voice interrupts her, taking on a bit more venom, "She just got here, things are a little hard on her right now." Mumbling under her breath, the girl leaves.

"Ey," the voice says again, soft and comforting along with a warm hand on my shoulder, "Y'okay?" The boy looks a few years older than I am, with short hair, and a very thin braid at the right side of his neck. His eyes are a very light, crystal blue, and his eyebrows are tilted up in a concerned look. There are fur arm covers that stretch from the base of his fingers to his elbow on both arms, and his clothes are very loose-fitting, very smooth looking fabric. "'Ey," he says again, "You doin' alright? _Är allt okej_?"

"Y-y-yes," I reply with a shaky voice, not sure if I'm trying to answer that for his sake or mine.

"Yeah, bullshit," he says very dismissively as he sits down on a nearby crate and leans towards me, outwardly showing his attention, "You just had a religion discussion with Dash, nobody's fine after that. So talk to me," he says simply, resting his head on his hands with his mouth covered like a psychologist.

"T-talk to you about what?"

He just shrugs, "Anything, I guess. Sometimes talking helps. And I can't promise that _I_ can help much, but I can promise that I'll listen."

"O-oh, I wouldn't want to keep you during… whatever this big party is," I say sheepishly.

"Nah, it won't be a problem at all, just tell me what's on your mind. Hey Pinkie?" he asks, turning to the pink haired girl behind her table, "could we get some of that bread? I'll come over and fix those cracks in your oven that you were talking about tomorrow." Her face brightens a bit more at this, and she leans over her table, handing a small basket of thinly sliced bread to him. He sets the basket in between us, and hands me a slice, then takes one for himself, looking at me expectantly. Well, here goes, I guess.

So I launch into an explanation of everything that has happened since I got the letter, and how I feel about it. Soon, I feel my eyelids getting heavier, and see some of the people start to move away from this alley, and move towards the main square.

"Oh!" he suddenly says, cutting into the last bit of my story, "Sorry to interrupt, but I just remembered, Omnia's starting up soon, you can't miss that! Let's go!" He stands up quickly, taking a step or two, swaying uneasily, seemingly dizzy, then starts back on his way, beckoning me along with him.

* * *

Just about everybody in the Village is at the main square, and a group of people are on a group of tables that have been pushed together to form a bit of a stage. They are all smiling and waving to people that they know, and some that they don't. They all seem to have rather tribal-looking clothes on, with furs and leathers, and jewelry made with bone. A number of instruments are on the tables with them, ranging from a number of drums, to flutes and whistles, and even one of those strange-looking hurdy-gurdy instruments that I saw earlier.

"Hello everybody!" one of them, a man that I assume is kind of the main person in the band, "How's it been goin' on this fine night of Fest?" His question is met with a roaring of different languages and cheers, all calling the same thing in the same place, united under the same circumstances. "Good, good, that's good to hear. Well, let's just open with a bit of an upbeat instrumental, how's 'Saltatio Vita' sound to you guys?" Another uproar as they pick up their instruments, and begin to play.

* * *

"Alright," the band leader says yet again, after another beautiful song, "It looks like I can just barely start to see a bit of light on the horizon, so let's have one last song before we leave you in a bit of peace, eh? How's about a bit of a newer song, 's called 'Alive', I think you'll like it. So guys just sit back, relax for one last song, and let's hear one last hurrah for this Fest, eh?"

They start playing as his little speech reaches its end, the guitar player starting to strum lightly on his guitar.

"Hot like the sun,  
Wet like the rain,  
Green like the leaves,  
Life is a game.

Stars in my head,  
Shine, moon, shine.  
Everythin's cool,  
'n' I feel fine."

Everybody is in an almost ethereal calm as the music plays, the lyrics vibrating through every bit of matter, shaking any stress away, and melting people into a blissful calm.

"Can you touch?  
The roots that feed us,  
Can you hear?  
The words that I say,  
Can you feel?  
The music move you,  
Can you feel alive today?"

The instruments pick up, the other instruments joining the guitar in forming a rhythm and melody that is simply soothing, washing away all of the worry and angst that I was feeling. The lyrics lose meaning, simply becoming another part of the relaxing sounds.

This must be the sort of meaning people have been talking about, people of all different cultures, from all different places all coming together in a calming, stable way of life, a single culture forming from many with all of the goods of its components. It doesn't need to make sense, it doesn't even need to be realized, it absorbs you and makes you feel at home, loving and tolerating the living shit out of you. And I feel… happy. For some reason that I don't know and don't want to know, I feel so much happier than I ever did in Equestrii.

And with the peaceful, pleasant song still ringing in my ears, I slowly… drift off… to sleep.

* * *

**I (sadly) do not own Omnia, their stuff belongs to them and Pagan Scum Records. I'm not making that up, it's actually called that, which is pretty awesome, if you ask me. So I hope you liked it, sorry for the wait, OC submissions still open, yadda yadda yadda. Brohoof /)  
**


	6. Niklas' speech

The bright sun burning through the leaves of the lush jungle canopy burns as my eyes just barely start to flutter open. The soft sound of gentle woodworking eventually registers in my still drowsy mind, and I look over to see the nice guy from last night… that I never actually learned the name of. Well, that's awkward.

"Morning," he says calmly.

"G'morning," I return the courtesy. He is shaping what appears to be the inside of a small stick, the bark already having been removed. "Wha's that?"

"Whistle," he replies simply.

"Ah," I breath, nodding slowly, "like a kind of flute?"

"Yup." Keeping it to one word answers, I see.

"Are you going to say a sentence that involves more than one word today?" I ask in a bit of a sassy way, a small smile spreading on my lips.

He just shrugs and grins a bit. "Probably." Sigh.

"I never got your name last night," I remember, "what was it?"

"Niklas. Still is, if I remember correctly," he responds, breaking his one-word streak with equal sass, extending his arm to shake.

Niklas. Sounds vaguely Scandinavian.

"So what are you-"

"Twilight!" I hear a familiar voice call from behind me. I turn around to find Spike running towards me from across the square. "Where have you been? I couldn't find you last night and I got worried an-" he seems to notice Niklas for the first time, "Who's he?"

"He's Niklas," Niklas answers, extending his hand to shake again, "he's pleased to meet you. And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Spike, Twilight's assistant," Spike answers, puffing out his chest in pride of his title, proud to be called the assistant of the Princess' protégé.

Not that _that_ matters anymore.

Niklas gives him a bit of a strange look. "You seem quite proud of being called a personal assistant. Why is that?"

"Whaddaya mean 'why'?!" Spike shouts back, halfway flabbergasted, "I'm the personal assistant to the personal protégé of the Princess! That's a pretty big deal!"

Niklas just sits on this for a few moments, thinking as more people start to get out and about as the sun rises higher in the sky.

"Weellll, yes," he says slowly, "But…" he looks around a bit, drawing in a deep breath and holding it for a while before letting it out sharply and saying: "Just… just look around you. What do you see?" he pauses, "Griffons, Elves of all kinds, Humans of all three blessings; people of all empires, kingdoms, khanates, all rising at the same time as each other, and at the same time as the single sun that they all live off of; all waking to the same lightening sky. That's what this is all about: it's unity. It's the ability, and in fact the _desire_ to live side by side in the same place. Under the same banner, under the same sky, together in the same experience. A great actor once wrote in a speech: 'Let us fight to free the world. Let us fight to do away with national barriers. To do away with greed, and hate, and intolerance.' _That_… is what this is. This is that brave new world.

"And about the comment of how she is 'the personal protégé of the Princess': what if she doesn't want to be any more? What if she's just as done with your princess as your princess apparently is with her? One of my favorite stories is a story of two armies, one with several thousand soldiers, and the other with a mere three hundred, that are meeting to go to war together against a common enemy. When they meet each other, the leader of the smaller armies said 'I expected that your commitment would at _least_ match our own'. In response, the leader of the smaller army points to one of the soldiers in the larger, and asks 'You. What is your profession?' And the soldier answers 'I am a potter, sir.' So he points to another, and again asks 'And what is your profession?' 'Sculptor, sir'. So he turns to a third, and again asks 'And you?' 'Blacksmith.' So he pauses for a moment, and then turns back to his own men, and asks: 'Spartans! What is your profession?' And they all at once let out three roaring battle cries. The leader turns back to the other leader, and says: 'You see old friend? I brought more soldiers than you did.' I say all of this to say: It doesn't matter what other people say you are, you could be a potter, or a sculptor, or a blacksmith under the public disguise that you're a soldier. What you are… _Who_ you are, is completely what you make of _yourself_…

"So Twilight?" he asks, clapping me on the arm as I look up at him again, "What is your profession?"

I have… no words. Not a single thing is passing through my mind as he asks that question.

Well Twilight? What _is _your profession?

Then Niklas just stands up, ruffles my hair a bit, and walks off. The square is dead silent, despite the entire Village being up and in the square. Watching. Listening. And then, somewhere in the crowd, someone starts to clap. Then another person, then another, then another, and soon, the entire Village is applauding what just happened.

And I feel so small. So very, crushingly small. And it feels…

Amazing.

* * *

**Just had to post this before I ruined it :P The speech is the "Most inspirational speech" by Charly Chaplain, and the story is, of course, the story of the 300 and Thermopylae. Also, I just wanted to thank the people that have followed, favorited, commented, etc. So thank you Gadgetphile, dannymxyz, and Cherrybomb101, especially to the last of those for actually posting a comment, it means more to me than you can know until you've gone out, written something, and gotten feedback. Bis später. /)  
**


	7. Indoc

"The sunset really is beautiful out here," I hear from behind me with a soft crunching of gravel-y sand as I sit on a small rock right outside the village limits, "Isn't it?" Mikhail sits down gently on the ground next to me with a sigh and just looks up into the slowly fading light of dusk, the sky alight with different hues of reds, yellows, and blues.

"It certainly is," I quietly respond.

We just sit there for a while, looking up into the sky as it turns an inky deep blue with the coming nighttime.

"Hey," I say after a long silence, "I… I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done for me; showing me around, and trying to help me adjust and what not. It was very kind of you."

"Eh, think nothing of it," he responds happily with a smile, "It was fun. I'm just sorry I was so out of it at the time." He chuckles at himself, and I can't help but smile as well. "And from what I heard earlier today, you should be thanking Niklas _way_ more than me for helping you adjust," my smile widens even more at the memory, "He doesn't talk very often, but when he does, it's like a voice of the gods coming down to offer their infinite wisdom, it's crazy."

"What does he really do around the Village?" I ask after a moment, "I mean, what's his job?"

"He's actually on the defense force full time as a warrior and quasi-psychiatrist. I heard you had a bit of a run-in with Rainbow Dash?" I wince, "I'll take that as a resounding 'yes', well he actually serves in Dash's squad under her." Now _that_ just makes no sense. Why was he a subordinate to _her_? He definitely has the patience and qualification to be a leader a _lot_ more than she does.

"You're looking really confused, at that, so I'll explain." Thank you. "In your empire, the military is very much so a standing army style unit, where position is based on experience, knowledge, and qualification. Here, the defense force is a much more guerilla style force, so the level of real 'qualification' isn't nearly as important. It's mostly based on who wants to be a leader and who wants to be a follower. Now of course, if somebody _really_ wants to be a leader, but we can tell that they would just be a hindrance and danger, then we'll *ahem* _suggest_ that they step down, but barring extraordinary circumstances, it's based a good bit on will."

"Hmm. That's rather… dangerously unreliable," I comment.

"Eh, to each their own opinion, I guess," he says with a shrug, "I personally think that it's pretty nice, and in the few armed conflicts that we've had, it worked pretty well."

A rather comfortable silence falls, with just the sounds of the wild jungle in front of us as background noise. The moon rises slowly over the massive trees and washes the ground with its pale light. I let some magic flow through my arm, and see my tattoos there glow softly violet as I idly pick up some rocks and start spinning them around.

"Hmm, y'know what?" Mikhail asks, breaking the silence, "You could very well join the defense force. We have a bit of a shortage of talented mages that can do too much more than pick locks and pockets. I bet you'd make a great addition." Now _that_ caught me a bit by surprise. Me? In their defense force? Why would they want me?

"O-okay?" Wait, what?! _Damn mouth!_

"Great! We'll see about indoc tomorrow," Mikhail replies with a huge grin, "I'm sure you'll meet the physical requirements, they aren't too tough for non-primary infantry, and the skill requirements aren't even a joke to you, I bet."

* * *

"_Ey, wachen Sie! Wachen Sie!_ I hear you've got an important date with a recruiter today," a voice that started out very German, but switched to very British calls at me as a blinding line of light cuts across my eyes. Why is every morning like this?

Groaning as I roll groggily off of my cot, I rub my eyes and do a quick stretch.

"You're gonna have plenty of time to stretch at the DF post. Now hop to, we've got a bit of a jog ahead of us."

Well damn.

* * *

Probably about a half an hour later and four miles through rather dense jungle, and the post is in sight: a rather small shack next to a slightly larger shack surrounded by a field of obstacle courses, training targets, and more sticks- I mean, "training weapons"- than you can shake a metaphorical stick at.

"_Und hier sind wir_," the soldier leading me comments, "Beautiful, isn' it?"

"Umm… yeah," I say rather uncomfortably, "Yeah it's… great?" He chuckles a little.

"C'mon," he says, gesturing to follow, "Mikhail will be waiting for you." My spirits lifting a little bit at the mention of a name that's slightly familiar at least, we set off again towards the main compound.

As we get closer, the sights and sounds are muffled less and less by the dense jungle, and I can start to see soldiers and soldiers in training doing various exercises and drills, some of them calling out cadences, some letting out battle cries, some remaining silent.

"Mikhail!" the soldier calls, "Sir, Twilight's here!"

"_Ah_, _horosho. Ona gotova?_" comes the distinctly Slavic response.

"Ahh, _nye govaryu po russkiy?_"

"Oh, right, sorry," Mikhail says with a chuckle, approaching us from one of the training fields, "So Twilight, you ready for the trials?"

"No," I very truthfully respond. Mikhail just laughs and claps me on the shoulder.

"You'll be fine, the physical requirements aren't bad, and the skill requirements are laughable to you, I'm sure. C'mon, let's go to the administrator 'n' get you all checked in."

My heart glows at the mention of administration and organization, and I follow Mikhail to the smaller of the two shacks, walled with a strange hodgepodge of different woods, barks, and bamboo and roofed with a combination of thatching and massive leaves, presumably from nearby trees. Inside, the small space is filled with a desk and stacks of materials like sheets of flat rock, flat tree bark, and even thinly pressed flattened sheets of metal. On the desk, there is a cup made of a section of bamboo filled with sticks of charcoal, and an etching nail.

"Hey Miller," Mikhail greets with a small wave, "This is that new recruit I mentioned."

"Ah, so this is the new mage, is it?" comes the hoarse response from behind the desk, but it's so relatively dark inside that I can't see the person very well, "Great, we haven't had many mages recently. So, Twilight is it?" he asks, addressing me directly.

"Um, yes, that's… that's me," I say unsurely.

"Great, I've got some basic information questions for you." Yay! A quiz! "Gender?"

"Female."

"Race?"

"Human, Unai."

"Specialty?"

"Umm, I don't know. Everything?"

The simple questions continue for a few minutes. Each time Miller pauses for a moment to scratch something on his writing boards.

"Okay then, I think…" he says, looking back through his notes, "that that's everything. Follow Mikhail out to the testing range, he'll put you through the paces, and see if you have what it takes, which, by what you've said, I think you almost certainly do. After that, he'll take you to the primary trainer for whatever your specialty is, or specialties are. Kay?" I nod and give a quick thank you before following Mikhail out back into the sun, covering my darkness adjusted eyes and wincing.

The testing range is basically a barren, dusty field not far away from the camp, dotted with the occasional target or training dummy with the classic barbed wire crawl thingy in the center.

"Alrighty now, you ready?"

* * *

The basic requirements, as it turn out, are actually brain-dead and obese style easy. The high-and-mighty nobility could probably pass… Okay, maybe not _that_ easy.

"Hahaha! _Chyertovskiy, _you've gotten bitter towards the high-and-mighty!" Mikhail says with a wide smile and a pat on my back, "You're comin' along yet, you are." I said that out loud, didn't I?

"Anyway, like you said in registration, you don't really have a clear specialty, so let's go and see-"

"Twilight!" a loud voice calls from the path back to the registration building, "Twilight there you are, I've been looking for you." Oh look, it's Dash. Wonderful.

"Twilight I'm- I am so sorry about… what was that, two days ago? Anyway, I'm just really sorry about the um… *cough* conversation we had a while back. I was drunk off my ass, and I had no right to be yelling at you like that… or to be hitting on you." She just had to say that, didn't she? "I'm not gay," she hurriedly adds, "really I'm not. These other ass-hats 'n' bastards 'll try to tell you otherwise, don't listen to them." Mikhail and I start to laugh a little at her suspicious defensiveness. And we laugh a little harder, and a little harder, and then Dash starts laughing too, and before I know it, we're all falling over each other with laughter.

_This is the start of a beautiful friendship, I can tell_.

* * *

**So that took entirely to long. Skyrim takes up a lot of time, as it would turn out ^^ Anywho, marching band camp is starting in a few days, so it'll be 8am to 8pm marching band stuff, so I probably won't be able to update any time soon, but you're probably used to that by now, eh? Anyway, have a nice life, /)*(\  
**


End file.
